


Lucky Break

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Paparazzi love them!  Click here to find out why.  (A fake dating future fic.)[Fills R5 of the Tony Stark Bingo, "Peter Parker/Spider-Man"]—It was a lucky break for the guy who caught it, a one in a million shot taken by chance. Tony's car was stopped at the light. He was seated next to Peter in the back. He was turned with his back to the car door. Peter was shirtless, and the camera had caught the barest hint of the elastic waist of Peter's underwear. The Spider-suit was fortunately out of view on the floorboards. Peter had one knee up on the bench, because he'd been pulling on his jeans. In the photo, it looked like he was taking them off.





	Lucky Break

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授翻|铁虫]Lucky Break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137844) by [sinSODA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinSODA/pseuds/sinSODA)



> This fic presumes that the IW storyline is resolved in such a way that Peter and Tony are both alive. It also starts with Pepper and Tony broken up and Peter much older. All of these things become readily apparent, but to give you an idea of what you're getting into here: it's post-canon, but very future fic.
> 
> Content advisories at the end notes.

It was a lucky break for the guy who caught it, a one in a million shot taken by chance. Tony's car was stopped at the light. He was seated next to Peter in the back. He was turned with his back to the car door. Peter was shirtless, and the camera had caught the barest hint of the elastic waist of Peter's underwear. The Spider-suit was fortunately out of view on the floorboards. Peter had one knee up on the bench, because he'd been pulling on his jeans. In the photo, it looked like he was taking them off.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said again.

The worst part was, Tony wasn't even mad. He seemed amused by the whole thing. "My own fault for not getting better window tinting."

"I can—I can come out as Spider-Man, explain that I was changing, that you'd just picked me up," Tony huffed a laugh, but Peter kept talking, "as a favor, that it wasn't like that. My secret identity isn't worth your reputation."

"You could come out as Spider-Man," Tony agreed, "or—"

"Or?" Peter asked, hoping Tony had a miracle to pull out of his hat the way he always seemed to.

Tony shrugged. "Or we let the assumption stand. Dating someone your age wouldn't hit even the top ten of worst blows to my reputation. Really, my reputation's not worth that much. I'll take you out in public for a month or two and then quietly announce an amicable split. You wouldn't be the first person who would find that the life of dating a public figure wasn't for you. An easy story, easily forgettable."

Peter should have said no. Tony had already done so much for him—too much. Peter didn't want to see where the breaking point would be. That was without getting into Peter's feelings, the way pretending to date would feel like a level of dishonesty above just never mentioning it. Peter should have said no—but he said yes.

—

Fake dating Tony was its own form of punishment. Tony took him out to nice dinners and for walks in the park. He brought Peter as his plus one to galas and fundraisers.

To the media, he said only, "It's very new, and he's a private person."

To anyone else who'd ask, he'd talk about how smart Peter was, how kind he was, how he was a genuinely good person who could probably do better, but that Tony had no intention of letting him get away.

The first time Tony introduced Peter with, "And have you met my beautiful, brilliant partner, Peter Parker?" Peter turned bright red. When Tony said to someone else, "Yes, this is the young man who's currently keeping me in line and yes, you should be jealous," his hand resting heavily on Peter's shoulder and his thumb brushing Peter's neck, Peter kind of wanted to sink into the floor. By the fifteenth repetition of Tony responding to someone's cutting remarks on Peter's age or gender with a gushing rendition of how lucky Tony was to have him, Peter was almost inured to it.

It was impossible to adjust to Tony's hands on him, though, the way Tony had pulled Peter into the bubble of his personal space and wasn't letting go. He'd put his hand to Peter's back or thread their arms together. He'd lean in close when he spoke, his breath warm against Peter's face or ear, locks of his hair brushing stiff and sticky against Peter's forehead. He'd brush his fingers along Peter's jaw to draw his attention back to him when it was wandering.

"Flagging, dearest?" Tony murmured on the third hour of a fundraiser for a purpose Peter had long forgotten.

Peter covered a yawn behind his hand. "How do you do this?"

"For one thing, alcohol. For another, I haven't spent half the day chasing down petty criminals and most of the previous night up working on my thesis."

"Yeah, you just spent it in your workshop."

"Much more restful," Tony agreed. He moved the hand at Peter's hip to his lower back. "Come on, I've given these people enough money. Let's get you to bed."

Tony flirting without intent was exquisitely painful. Peter wondered if Tony would be like this if it were real—if he'd be this attentive, this affectionate, this casually loving and utterly lovable. Tony kissed Peter's knuckles before handing him into the back of the car.

—

After a few dates, Peter decided to lean into it. Besides, it wasn't fair to make Tony do most of the work. Maybe he was getting more out of this than he should be, but that didn't stop Peter from taking Tony's hand at the Knicks game or from putting his head on Tony's shoulder at halftime. Tony put his arm around Peter's shoulders easily, casually, like they did this all the time. He left it there even when the game started again. On the way out, he slid his arm down, hand resting on Peter's waist, and it was all Peter could do to keep walking.

They were stopped by the owner on the way out, and Tony said, "It has been a while. I don't think you've had the chance to meet my brilliant and beautiful partner, Peter. Peter, meet the man who beat me out for ownership of the Knicks."

"Nice to meet you," Peter said dutifully.

"It's good to see you getting back out there," the man said, and Tony's smile went a little fixed as they shook hands. "Maybe Pepper wasn't the one, but Peter here certainly looks like he can keep up with you."

"He can and does," Tony agreed.

They chatted for a bit longer, but the conversation didn't get any better, including several more pointed comments about Peter and Pepper. When Tony and Peter were alone—or as alone as two people could get in a thinning crowd—the smile slid off Tony's face.

"That was awkward," Peter said. Though maybe not as awkward as the fact Tony still had his arm wrapped around him.

"He thinks you're less likely to leave me over the Iron Man thing because you're just waiting for me to keel over and leave you my billions." Tony's voice was level. "For him, that was practically approval. We're not close, but we're friendly. It's his way of expressing joy I won't die alone."

Peter put his hand to Tony's back. "Joke's on him, because I died first."

It had been years, but maybe that was too soon, because he felt Tony's flinch through the suit jacket. "Joke's on me, maybe."

"I'm still here," Peter offered instead of an apology.

"Yeah." Tony squeezed Peter's hip. "You are."

—

They didn't go out every night. Tony didn't have the time. _Peter_ didn't have the time, in his last year of his doctorate and juggling teaching classes with his doctoral work with being Spider-Man. Peter didn't have much of a social life, though he did keep up with friends from high school—Ned and MJ—and friends from college—Gwen, Harry, and Johnny. Mostly they kept in contact through social media, though he and Ned went out for drinks at the gaming bar once a month now that they were both back in New York.

At least once a week, though, Tony found time and Peter made time.

This week, they walked the park again. Tony linked their hands, and they talked about some of his latest armor adjustments and nanotech as they meandered along. They bought hot dogs from a cart, and Tony said, voice so quiet no one else could have heard it unless they'd also had superpowers and had been standing right next to them, "How much PDA is acceptable here?"

Peter should have said what they were doing was more than enough, that Tony had already established Peter was a private person. What Peter actually said, watching Tony carefully from under his eyelashes, was, "I'll take whatever you want to give me, Mr. Stark."

"You've got some—" and Tony leaned in—close, closer, so slow that Peter could've pulled back any time—and kissed Peter, the tip of his tongue flicking out to swipe the corner of Peter's mouth. Peter dropped his half-eaten hot dog to clutch Tony's coat. Peter couldn't help the small sound he made, the way his lips opened up in pure invitation. Tony took it, licking into Peter's mouth. His left hand came up to cup Peter's cheek. When he pulled away, he finished breathlessly, "—some ketchup."

Peter pulled him in for another kiss. He didn't think about where they were, the purpose of what they were doing, focused only on Tony's lips, Tony's tongue, Tony's beard scratching against his skin. It was only the click of a camera that brought him back to himself.

Tony thumbed at Peter's lower lip. His eyes were crinkled at the corners. "That's going to make a pretty picture. Think I could convince them to give me a copy?"

Peter felt the next breeze go right through him. He put on a smile and kissed the pad of Tony's thumb. "I'm sure they'd take the second payday."

Tony slung an arm around Peter's neck. "Come on. Let me buy you another hot dog."

Peter let Tony lead him.

—

Tony was right. It was a very pretty picture.

Trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, Peter saved it to his phone.

—

Their next public appearance was a wedding—Pepper's wedding.

"Are you sure you want to take me?" Peter asked for what was probably the fifth time.

"I'm sure," Tony said firmly. He adjusted Peter's bow tie, which went with the tux Tony had bought him for tonight, then smoothed the lapels, hands sliding firmly against Peter's chest. "There. Perfect."

"And Ms. Potts knows we're not, uh—?" Peter trailed off.

"Don't be ridiculous." Tony shot the cuffs of his sleeves. "Of course she doesn't."

The hours that followed mostly seesawed between boring and excruciatingly awkward, but there were some good moments. Tony led him out onto the dance floor for three full songs, hands at his shoulder and his waist. When the music got a little faster, though, they retreated to the table where person after person tracked them down just to give Tony their veiled condolences and backhanded pity.

"My date is sitting right here," Tony ground out when someone was a little more open about how sad they thought it was that Pepper had finally, definitively shut that door. When they retreated under his glare, Peter put his hand on Tony's arm.

"Hey, um. Do you," Peter could feel his face burning, "do you maybe want to go get caught making out in the coat check closet?"

Tony knocked back his drink. "That is the best suggestion I have heard all night."

Tony paid the attendant two-hundred dollars to go away, but it took twenty minutes for anyone to find them. Peter's bow tie was crumpled in his jacket pocket, his shirt was untucked and half undone, and beard burn stretched from his neck to his collarbones. Tony had abandoned his jacket to the floor despite the remaining empty hangers. His hair was a mess from where Peter had clutched at it as Tony sucked mark after mark into his neck and shoulders.

"Do you _mind_?" Tony asked as Peter nibbled on his earlobe. Peter went to pull away, and Tony's hand pulled him back. "No, not you, sweetheart. That was good. I really, really liked that."

"I just wanted my coat," someone squeaked from the door.

—

The thing was, Tony never said no. He ran with it, whatever Peter wanted, and then escalated. It was a problem, because Peter couldn't say no, either.

They went to a gallery opening, and the art was sort of interesting. Some of the photographs were really good. He didn't really get the appeal of most of the paintings, but he was okay with that. The food was, well, as dismal as Peter was discovering these things usually served, all tiny dry sandwiches and canapes.

"Tell me the truth." Tony was firmly attached to Peter's side and had been since they'd walked in forty minutes ago, except for one trip to get them drinks. "You're bored, aren't you?"

"Yeah, kind of? But it's okay." Peter tilted his head to see if the painting with all the red looked any better sideways. "I know you need to be here." The artist's mother was someone Tony was making nice with on SI's behalf.

"We've put in an appearance. No one could blame me for going home to have sex with my extremely attractive boyfriend instead of staying to the end." Peter's cheeks burned as Tony flagged down the curator. "I'll take that one." Tony pointed at the painting Peter had been staring at. "You know where to send it."

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

Tony led them both to the door. Peter whispered, afraid the wrong person might hear him, "Tony, that painting was terrible."

"I know. It's going directly into storage." Tony stopped in the parking lot, though they were still parked in the same spot, up near the front. Abruptly, he said, "How do you feel about not leaving yet?"

Outside in the cool April night, Peter found he really didn't want to go back into the hot, crowded gallery hall. He tried to keep his disappointment out of his voice as he said, "We can go back if you need to."

"Nah." Tony had his keys in his hand. He was staring at the Bentley. Casually, like he didn't really care, "I was wondering if you wanted to fool around in the backseat a while."

"Yes," Peter said before his conscience could catch up with the rest of him. And then, well, he was stuck with it. He wouldn't want to hurt Tony's feelings by taking it back, even if Tony was committing to this whole fake dating thing harder and more thoroughly than any reasonable person would be. "I would love to fool around with you."

Before Peter could panic over the level of honesty he was displaying here, Tony had pulled him into a kiss right out there in the open. Then again, that was sort of the whole point. Peter kissed back, just as desperate and blown away as he'd been with Tony's hands on his ass at Pepper's wedding reception. All it took was Tony's lips against his own, and Peter was unable to think, unable to concentrate on anything but more, more, more. Tony's hands framed his face, the keys awkward and uncomfortable against Peter's left cheek, and Peter's hands clenched against Tony's fancy paisley suit jacket.

"Car," Tony said when Peter picked up where they'd left off at the wedding, tracing the cartilage of Tony's ear with his tongue, then dragging his teeth along the lobe. "Car, car, car."

Peter picked Tony up at the waist and pressed him against the car's side, held him there as he sucked at the side of his neck. Tony whimpered and pressed the clicker. Peter needed to let him down so they could open the car door, but Tony had _hooked his feet together above Peter's ass_ , the heels of his dress shoes digging bruises in the small of Peter's back as something else was rapidly filling out to press against his front.

"Close enough." Tony pulled Peter's mouth back to his own, digging his heels in deeper when Peter couldn't help a tiny thrust. Peter opened his mouth to apologize, and Tony preempted him with, "Yeah, that's it, give it to me."

It was a tremendously bad idea, but Peter did, thrusting again and catching Tony's answering groan on his tongue. He rocked his hips against Tony's body, fully clothed and completely undone, whining deep in the back of his throat at how much he wanted it. He'd probably have continued that way until he came if a car hadn't pulled in to the parking lot and honked when its headlights caught the shaking car frame.

Tony burst into laughter, burying it in Peter's shoulder. Peter let him down. Tony planted one last kiss on Peter's neck and said, "Let's get you home."

 _Come home with me_ , Peter thought. _Let's do this all over again where no one else can see_.

But that wasn't the deal. Peter only got what Tony was willing to offer, and what he was offering wasn't real. Peter said, throat gone tight, "Yeah. Home sounds good."

—

Peter defended his thesis, and Tony took him out to celebrate.

"Anything you want," Tony promised.

What Peter wanted included sleeping for a week and also some other activities that didn't involve leaving his bed, but which Tony was more than welcome to join him for. Tony would, in fact, be the focus of those activities. Surprisingly, only about half of them involved sex. Peter would really like someone (Tony) to pet his hair and tell him he did a good job, that he could rest now. Maybe they could cuddle. If the last couple months were anything to judge, Tony would be good at it.

What Peter got was a very nice steak at a very nice restaurant in a very private room. It was served with a side of asparagus and garlic roasted mashed potatoes. Tony ordered a bottle of wine that was wasted on Peter and his own steak. While they waited, Tony sat on Peter's lap and spent a pleasant twenty minutes slowly necking, not really going anywhere, but enjoying themselves. When the server knocked at the door with their food, Tony's lips were wet, spit-slick and shiny, bitten red and maybe bruised a little, but everyone's clothes were on and in place.

"Will there be anything else?" the server asked after arranging the food on the table.

"That will be all," Tony said firmly.

She left the room with all the haste of someone who was being well paid not to know what was going on in it, but all they did was talk and eat their dinner. The food settled in Peter's stomach like a warm, heavy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Half of his sentences trailed off into yawns. His eyes were dry, and he kept blinking, each time longer than the last. One moment, Tony was accepting the check, and the next, he was right beside Peter, shaking him awake.

"Time to go, sleepyhead," Tony said. He didn't seem upset that Peter had fallen asleep on him. His expression was warm and open, heartbreakingly fond. His thumb brushed the line of Peter's cheekbone.

Peter checked, but the room was empty of anyone but them.

"Up and at 'em. You can sleep in an actual bed." Tony moved his hand down in an open offer to help Peter up. Peter took it. Instead of releasing him when he was upright, Tony tucked Peter's hand into the crook of his arm. Peter leaned into him as they left the privacy of the room. In the lobby, Tony asked, "Your place or mine, darling?"

Peter was tired enough to admit, all honesty, "I'll go wherever you take me."

Tony took Peter home—to _Peter's_ home—but he let Peter spend the entire ride half in his lap, drowsing against his shoulder. Tony's arms remained closed around Peter, keeping him in place with every turn in the road, until they finally pulled up in front of his building. Tony didn't let go right away. Peter stayed where he was, nosing gently at Tony's neck. Tony smelled like sandalwood, but underneath, Peter could smell the salt of his skin. They'd just eaten, but Peter's mouth watered. He was exhausted—he wanted his bed—but he also wanted to tip his head forward that tiny bit and bite.

Tony dropped a kiss into Peter's hair. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Parker."

"Thank you for doing this, Mr. Stark." Peter didn't know which this he meant. The dinner? The dates? The way he gave Peter hope that it could all be something more? Whichever it was, he meant it. He meant it so much it hurt.

"Believe me. It's my pleasure."

Peter wanted to believe Tony. Peter really, really did.

—

For their very last fake date, they went to the New York Aquarium. They'd been fake dating for several months, well beyond Tony's original projection of one, maybe two months. Their relationship was long past its intended expiration date, but Tony hadn't broken up with him. Tony hadn't even mentioned it since that first discussion. Part of Peter wanted to keep things how they were, to ride the status quo as far as that took him. The rest of him wanted more. He thought that maybe Tony did, too.

It was what gave him the courage to say, standing on the boardwalk outside the aquarium, "Tony, I don't think I can keep doing this. I don't want to keep pretending." To Peter's surprise, Tony dropped to one knee right there on the boardwalk. "What are you doing?"

"Easy out. I pushed you too far, too fast. You're not ready yet. You realize you may not ever be ready. You say no." Tony's words were a murmur, unlikely to be heard by anyone without Peter's hearing. He grabbed Peter's hands. "You can't tell me one of these people hasn't started surreptitiously filming this. What do you say, Peter? Want to get hitched?"

"You didn't let me finish."

Tony's thumb rubbed gently over Peter's knuckles. "See, jumping the gun wasn't even a lie."

Peter was quiet, all too aware of the people around them stopping to stare. He emphasized, "I don't want to keep _pretending_."

"Oh." Tony's confident expression had faded into something a little bit lost, open and vulnerable.

"I want—I want this to be real, and I was starting to think that maybe, maybe you did, too."

"I do." Tony pressed a kiss to Peter's hands. "I really, really do. It almost scares me how much I do."

Peter had the feeling that Tony had chosen proposal for a reason. "Tony, what if I say yes?"

"You don't have to. We can always say I got a deferral of judgment."

"Tony."

"Then you would make me the happiest man alive."

Peter pulled Tony to his feet and kissed him. Someone in the background had started clapping. "Tell me you don't actually have a ring."

"Not on me."

"That's not a no."

Tony smiled, wide and shameless. "In my defense, you just said yes."

"I didn't, but I am." Peter kissed Tony again. "We're doing this entirely out of order, but yes, Tony, I want to marry you."

—

For their first real date, Tony wore a hoodie, sunglasses, and a baseball cap. He insisted Peter do the same.

"We've given the paparazzi plenty of dates." Tony snuck a kiss as he adjusted Peter's cap. "This one's ours."

At the end of the day, Tony took Peter home, but this time, he followed him up, into his apartment and into bed.

—

"If someone had told me that I would develop a kink for privacy this late in the game," Tony said, legs over Peter's shoulders, "I would never have believed them, but I am so happy to get this all to myself."

Peter kissed Tony's shoulder. "I'm just happy to have you."

—

Despite their best intentions and their new, firm preference for privacy, at their wedding, they got caught in the coat check again. This time, Tony wasn't wearing pants.

"I will pay you a thousand dollars to go away and pretend you saw nothing," Tony said.

"Tony, there are eight people milling around out there wanting their damn coats." Rhodey had his hand over his eyes. "There are hotel rooms. You could _buy_ a hotel. At least find someplace with a door that locks."

"We're not having sex with a small crowd of wedding guests out there," Peter said when Tony failed to move or attempt to cover himself in any way.

"Worst best man ever. I can't believe you cockblocked me on my wedding night."

"Go home," Rhodey said.

They did.

—

(Eventually.)

—

The photos that surfaced the next day weren't lucky shots. In them, Peter was very, very naked. Tony only had Peter's body to cover his modesty. It was not a surprise that someone had found them in the car in the parking lot during the half an hour they'd spent consummating their marriage in the backseat because someone—Peter, okay, it was at least three-quarters Peter, though it wasn't like Tony had stopped him or done anything but urge him on—had gotten impatient and decided the drive home would take too long.

Peter really regretted checking his phone in bed. He regretted last night's choices even more. "Tony, you have got to fix the window tinting on the Benz."

"Or we could stop having sex in semi-public places." Peter looked at Tony, and Tony grinned. "Yeah, I didn't think so." He tapped at the holographic display he'd had Friday bring up, enlarging another photo, this one of Tony's hands on Peter's bare ass. "Oh, yeah, this one's definitely my fault. How many reporters do you think will laugh at me when we get interview requests over this and I tell them yet again that you're a private person?"

Peter put his head in his hands. "I am. I love my privacy."

Tony petted Peter's hair. "And yet somehow you married me."

Peter lowered his hands and looked up at Tony. Peter was entirely sincere as he said, "That's because I love you more."

Tony's face softened. "Are you sure it wasn't just because you didn't want to come out as Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, Tony." Peter stroked Tony's cheek. "I'm sure."

"Good."

What happened next was for them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: Age gap. Two people who really want to be dating who agree to fake dating and will take any excuse to take it further. Semi-public sex and very public displays of affection and both being caught on camera. Please let me know if you have any questions or special concerns.


End file.
